Page 56 of Freefall

I’m not entirely sure he’s not about to murder me, but he drives only far enough that we’re hidden from passing headlights before shifting the car into park.

“Get out.”

The command hangs between us, and even though every cell in my body screams not to, I follow his order. The cool October air wraps around me as I step onto the packed dirt. By the time I close the door, Nate is already walking toward me.

“First,” he says, his voice steady. “Tell me you want this.” The teasing edge from earlier is gone, and so is the anger. “If you don’t, I'll drive you back to your car. No questions asked.”

It occurs to me that I don’t even know what this is, but I also realize that I don’t need to know. Despite everything that’s happened, I still trust Nate not to give me more than I can handle. I trust him not to hurt me—physically, anyway, or in a bad way. Because there are absolutely delicious, dirty ways I want him to hurt me.

“I want this.”

He moves his palm next to my head, resting it on the car door. “Have your limits changed?”

“No.”

“Your safe word?”

“You know what it is.”

His eyes narrow at my backtalk. “Say it.”

“Buttercup,” I whisper.

Nate’s expression softens, an almost imperceptible flicker of a memory sliding across his face. But just as fast, it’s gone, and his eyes grow dark. “Good.” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Because all of that attitude you’ve been giving me these past few weeks? All the frustration I’ve been feeling? I’m going to take it all out on your ass. Turn around.”

My breath hitches at the words, but I can’t help pushing back. “Why don’t you make me…sir.”

He studies me for a moment, the corner of his jaw tightening, as though he’s making a decision. Then he closes the distance, his hand wrapping firmly around my arm as he guides me to the front of the SUV before spinning me around to face the hood. He pushes the center of my back, applying pressure until I lean forward. I brace my palms against the car, and he presses until my cheek brushes against the metal, still warm from the engine.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you, Harper,” he rasps, popping the button on my jeans and tugging them down with my panties in one go. “Do you know why I’m doing this?” Condescension drips from the words.

Besides the obvious, he means, because neither of us is naive enough to believe that this will make up for keeping his child a secret from him.

“Because I’ve been such a bad girl,” I tease, trying to keep things light, but it falls flat.

His hand lingers for a moment before he answers.

“No, because you’ve been a fucking brat.” He runs his hand over my ass before kneading it. “You’ve been testing every last shred of patience I have.” He moves his hand away, the loss of warmth leaving goosebumps on my skin. “You haven’t been drinking enough water.” I close my eyes, the anticipation of the first strike making my pussy slick. “And worst of all, you’ve been driving our daughter around in a fucking death trap.”

That’s when he lands the blow. Both the words and his flat hand come down hard, making me gasp. He spanks me three more times in quick succession before he rubs the soreness away, his fingers simultaneously digging into the soft flesh.

Slap.

He does it again, and I curse.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice is calm, almost amused. “I’m just getting started.”

The pet name catches me off guard. He’s never called me sweetheart before. Is that what he calls other women? The thought stings almost as much as the blows he’s landing, but I shove it aside. I’m too turned on to care right now.

“How many more do you think you deserve, then?”

“I don’t⁠—”

Slap.

“That was a rhetorical question.” I turn my head to see the corner of his mouth lift, but there’s nothing playful in his eyes. “I think ten is a nice round number. And I know you know how to count.” A pause. “So you'd better start unless you want to be here all night.”

His hand cracks against my burning skin.